


it’s always a...

by Lleu



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, Character Study, M/M, Oral Sex, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-10
Updated: 2018-09-10
Packaged: 2019-07-10 12:42:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15949577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lleu/pseuds/Lleu
Summary: you won’t know it for another several months, but this is the last time.





	it’s always a...

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to hold off posting this until I’d finished one of the Nate/Jake fics I’m working on, but I’m at an impasse in everything else so I figured I might as well just get this out of my drafts.

you and Burke don’t fuck that often, considering how much time you spend in each other’s heads. for starters, he’s straight — mostly — and anyway, you’re not really his type. when you do, though, it’s intense, maybe all the more so for how infrequent it is. you may not be his usual type, but you’re _definitely_ sexually compatible.

the first time it happened was after the first drift where you hit 100% synchronization. you were ghost-drifting; you told Burke afterwards, in an unusual moment of emotional vulnerability, that it was the first time you’d experienced that — “ghost drift like that, I mean” — with anyone other than Jake.

“yeah, sure,” Burke said, smugly, pulling you closer to him in your bed; he’s getting hard again already. “you were _definitely_ talking about the ghost drift, and not about the way I —”

you elbowed him, but you were laughing, and so was he; he kissed the back of your neck, gently, and just for a second you thought maybe you could love him.

but the moment passed, and after that it was three months before anything else happened. but it didn’t matter — doesn’t matter. Burke isn’t looking for love, not like that, and neither are you — not with him, anyway. every so often while you’re drifting you catch a glimpse of a memory of the two of you, mostly in bed (mostly in yours), but twice, too caught up in each other still to wait, in the locker room. you smile and feel him smiling with you. you’re not in love, but it’s _something_ , even so.

whatever it is, it‘s never serious, and maybe that’s how it should be — it’s _fun_. Burke teases you for your commitment to every single regulation, and over time he’s become the one person you can let your guard down around. it’s been hard for you to do that ever since Jake.

you're together for almost ten years. you know him better than you’ve ever known anyone, and he knows you the same way. it’s not always a smooth ride (what relationship is?), but all things considered the bumps are pretty minor. you argue about politics and the role of the PPDC after the war. then you make up (and make out). Burke doesn’t like one of the guys you date (he turns out to be right; the guy’s a jerk). but you break up with him and Burke is, in his Burke-ish way, there to get you through it. mostly when you fight it’s about dumb things, movies Burke likes that you hate, music Burke thinks is trashy but you can’t get enough of. somewhere along the line it hits you that, _oh_ , Burke is your best friend. it seems obvious; you’ve just never actually talked about it. you can’t imagine your life without him, however much an idiot he may sometimes be.

you guess that’s what happens when someone’s been such an intimate — and even if you never had sex being copilots would still be intimate — part of your life for almost a decade.

it’s a pretty normal day. that’s how it is, these days: just, every month or two, your mood and Burke’s align after a drift, and you fuck. you may not be looking for love, but you have to admit you _do_ love Burke’s dick, and he sure as fuck knows it.

so this day is normal, except: you won’t know it for another several months, but this is the last time. in his defense, Burke doesn’t know it yet, either. you had a good drift that afternoon; you held 100% for almost two full hours, and even before it ends you can tell it’s going to be one of those days. Burke’s horny, and it’s been almost three weeks since the last time you got laid (a guy you met online who lives in town — it was fine; Burke will be better). neither of you says anything about it until later, but you can feel it in the air between you, the way your steps fall into sync as you step out of the conn-pod — but, no, it’s the way your steps don’t _need_ to fall into sync, because they were never out of sync. this is some ghost drifting: you fit together, echo each other, without any conscious thought.

later this is what you’ll miss most, this kind of connection.

"hey,” Burke says to you over dinner in the cafeteria. you look up across the table at him and recognize the expression on his face, the question he’s asking.

“hey,” you say, by way of answer, quirking a smile. his knee bumps against yours.

you finish dinner at the same time Burke does; he raises his eyebrows, and you nod. you stand up together, make some excuse to the medic who was sitting next to you, who nods and turns to join the J-techs sitting on their other side.

outside in the hall you ask Burke, not for the first time, “do you think they know?”

Burke laughs. “Nate, let’s be honest, do you know any pilots who aren’t related who _haven’t_ fucked, at least once?”

it’s the same answer he always gives. you think about it a lot. every so often you wonder if that’s all he thinks this is, just a normal side effect of drifting. (you do know a couple of pilots who you’re sure haven’t, but that’s beside the point.) either way, he’s probably right — it’s not like you’ve been actively trying to keep this a secret, or like there’s much “this” to keep secret in the first place.

“so,” you say. “when?”

“an hour?” he raises his eyebrows.

“sure.”

“I’ll pick you up,” he says, grinning. that’s a bit of a surprise.

“got something special in mind?”

“nope,” he says, shrugging, then adds, with some irony, “just a _romantic_ night in.” you both laugh. “see you in an hour, Ranger Lambert.”

an hour is plenty of time for you to take a long, hot shower, washing off the sweat from the afternoon in the drift. you’re lounging on your bunk when Burke knocks. you pull on some fresh clothes and open the door.

“Ranger Burke.”

“Ranger Lambert.” you both salute, then laugh. “shall we?” he takes you back to his room, which is next to your room, so there’s not much difference, but it’s still a nice change of pace. you follow him in, and when the door closes behind you he turns to look at you, not saying anything.

“nothing,” he grins. “just thinking about how sexy you’re going to look in about five minutes.”

“are you saying I’m not sexy now?” you ask, mildly offended.

“oh, you are,” he says, stepping closer to you and putting one hand at your waist. “but just wait till we get you out of those clothes.”

“hold on,” you say, suddenly aware of your body. “I need to piss first.”

Burke sighs. “what did you _do_ for the last hour?”

“look,” you say, a little petulant. “I didn’t need to go then. now I do.”

you take a bit longer than normal in the bathroom because you’ve got half a hard-on already; when you emerge, Burke pulls you into a quick kiss, then trails a line of kisses across your jaw and down to your throat; you tilt your head back and close your eyes. one of his hands is still on your waist; the other has slipped between the two of you to rub your dick through the fabric of your uniform pants. you’re already most of the way hard; you slide your hand up under the back of his shirt, marveling as always at the intense warmth that radiates from his body — even when you don’t feel cold, Burke always feels hot.

the hand on your waist slides around and under the waistband of your pants to grab your ass, and he pulls you closer, pressing your dick against his thigh. you can feel his cock against yours, too, hard and thick — Burke’s got the thickest dick you’ve ever seen. he squeezes your ass again and moves up to nip playfully at your ear.

“Joseph...” it comes out as more of a whimper than you meant it to. this is the only time you call him by his first name, when you’re having sex.

he laughs, and draws his hand out of the back of your pants so he can, instead, tug at the hem of your shirt.

“off,” he says, and you obligingly lift your arms so he can pull your shirt off. once you’re shirtless he takes half a step back and looks you up and down. “good.”

“thanks,” you say, stifling a laugh.

then he gets down on his knees, looking up at you and grinning toothily as he undoes your belt. “can I...?”

you nod, and after mouthing at your dick through the fabric of your boxers for a second, he maneuvers it out through the fly and takes it in his mouth.

Burke doesn’t get a lot of practice sucking cock — at least, in the drift you’ve never seen him doing it with anyone but you and, once, a college student he met at a bar. his technique is a little sloppy, but it’s good anyway. his mouth is warm, and his tongue feels _very_ good sliding around the head of your dick. you carefully put one hand on the back of his head, running your fingers through his hair, which earns you a pleased hum — Burke is very feline sometimes.

after a few minutes of slightly sloppy cocksucking, punctuated by the slurping noises that would be offputting in another context but somehow aren’t here, Burke pulls back and, a little awkwardly, tucks your dick back into your boxers so that he can pull them, and your pants, down to your knees. then he takes your balls in his mouth — first one, then the other, then both, tugging gently at them. if nothing else, ten years of intermittent sex have taught Burke what you like and what you don’t; you inhale sharply, closing your eyes. “fuck, Joseph.”

he goes back to your dick for another few minutes, then stops abruptly; you look down at him and see he’s looking up at you. “I want to fuck you.”

“yes,” you say, like you always say, and Burke stands up, smiling even _more_ toothily.

he kisses you, sending a shiver down your spine; you feel the echo of it run through Burke, too. “get those pants off, then,” he says once he breaks the kiss; then after you’ve (happily) complied he adds, “now do mine.”

“yes, sir, Ranger Burke,” you say, adding an ironic salute for good measure. Burke gives a snort of laughter at the ridiculousness of it, since you’re buck naked.

“well, then, _Ranger Lambert_ ,” he says, “get to it.”

so you do, with some help from Burke: he kicks off his boots, a little awkwardly, as you help him slip out of his shirt, and then it’s your turn to get on your knees. you unbuckle Burke’s belt, slowly, and pull down the zipper on his fly. he’s going commando, apparently, because there’s his cock, thick and hard.

“someone’s ready for a uniform inspection,” you say, laughing.

“just for you.” you look up at him to roll your eyes and he winks. you shake your head and tug his pants down, although they don’t need much help. he steps out of them, turning so the head of his dick bumps against your cheek. you turn your head and catch it in your mouth. “mm,” Burke says, “that’s it.”

he puts a hand on either side of your head to guide you, thrusting his hips slightly, pushing his cock — gently — to the back of your throat. you shift your position slightly and Burke lets out a sigh of pleasure as you deepthroat him.

“fuck, Nate,” he says. “you’re so good at that.”

you know that, but it’s still gratifying to hear it. even if he says that every time.

but you’ve both got other things on your agenda. you pull back, and Burke says, “yeah, true. let’s get you onto the bed.”

he pulls you to your feet and leads you to his bunk; you collapse onto it together, and Burke kisses you again, grabbing your cock and stroking it a few times before breaking the kiss. “here,” he says, reaching awkwardly over to grab something from the nightstand — lube, of course. his hand slides down below your balls, teasing. “do you want to, or should I?”

“you,” you say. “please?”

he just smiles and pulls his hand away. there’s the familiar pop as the he flips open the top of the tube, and then his fingers are back, circling around your hole. you spread your legs to give him easier access, and he then he slides a finger in.

“mm.”

“ _that’s_ what we like to hear,” Burke says, and follows it up with another. “told you you look good like this.” he slides the fingers in and out. “I’m going to fuck you so good.”

"fuck yeah,” you say, a little weakly. he adds another finger. “ _fuck_ , Joseph. fuck me.”

“we’re getting there,” he says. “be patient.” he slides in and out a few more times, then pulls out. you — _fuck me_ , you think — whine. “just a sec,” he says. “I’m getting a condom.”

“I know,” you say. “but _hurry up_.”

“you’re needy tonight,” he says, laughing.

“I’m always needy,” you say. “you should know that by now.”

“I do,” he says. you hear the sound of a wrapper tearing, and you look and see him rolling the condom down onto his cock.

“slowly,” you say.

“I know,” he says, and it’s his turn to be petulant. “so _now_ you can be patient, huh?”

“fuck you, Joseph,” you say.

“not tonight,” he says, lining himself up. “I’m going in.”

you’ve done this enough times that you trust Burke to take it slowly enough. you feel the tip of his cock pressing against your ass. he shifts position and then he’s pushing against your hole, slowly but surely. you grit your teeth and let out a hiss; it’s just the tip, but it burns a bit. it’s a good thing you know it’ll be worth it.

“hang in there, buddy,” he says.

“that’s what I’m trying to do,” you say, wincing. “just. slowly.”

“I know,” he says. “just say when.”

when the pain is a little less, you say, “all right, a little more.” he inches forward, and you wince again. “ow.”

“sorry, sorry!” he says. he reaches over to grab your hand and give it a squeeze. “too fast.”

“it’s okay,” you say.

“you feel good, for what it’s worth,” he says.

“good to know,” you say, through still-gritted teeth. you take a deep breath. “all right, a bit more.”

more cautiously this time, he presses forward again. “we’re about halfway there,” he says. “god, you’re tight today.”

“it’s been like three weeks,” you say, “so I’m not surprised.” it hurts less now — you’re starting to see the pleasure on the other side of the pain. “okay.” you take another deep breath. “more.”

“tell me when to stop,” he says, and slowly pushes further in. you wince again, but it never gets past what you can manage. you can feel him pushing further and further into you; finally he says, “that’s it.”

“okay,” you say. “give me a minute.”

“glad to,” he says. “you feel pretty good already just like this.” he leans down, then, to kiss you, and you feel your cock, which had gone half-soft, twitch and start to harden again.

after a minute or so of this — less time than it would take with someone else, you’re pretty sure; you’re still riding some trace ghost drift, and your mind, echoing Burke’s, is telling you this is _good_ , even if your body’s not a hundred percent caught up yet — with Burke gently stroking your dick, you think you’re ready.

“all right,” you say. “slowly, though.”

“slowly” he agrees, and starts to fuck you. you’re wincing a little still, but then you pass some threshold and it is just good. you start to move, slowly, in sync with him.

“fuck,” you half-say, half-whisper, and Burke grins.

“you like that?” he asks. “my cock” — he pushes, again, all the way into you; your cock jumps and you squirm — “in your ass?”

“ _yeah_ ,” is all you can manage.

“me, too,” he says. “faster?”

“yeah.”

he speeds up, and for a second you close your eyes to just appreciate the feeling of it, him moving and you moving with him; you’ve never gotten over how _thick_ he is, and now that you’re past the pain it’s just _really fucking good_. then you open your eyes again, because one of the many good parts of this is watching Burke’s face while he fucks you.

his eyes are closed; he looks like he’s concentrating intently on something — it’s funny, almost. then he opens his eyes, too, and what he’s concentrating on is _you_ ; he gets really intense sometimes — you’ve never been sure what to make of it.

“fuck, Nate,” he says, wrapping a hand around your dick to jack it in time with his thrusts. “I thought I’d last longer tonight, but I’m going to cum” — he’s not kidding; his breathing is already getting a little ragged, and you can half-feel the tension rising in his body, mirrored in your own — “pretty soon. how’re you doing?”

you close your eyes again, gauging the mix of sensations, between Burke’s cock in you, his hand around your dick, and the hints, still, of drift connection. “yeah,” you say. “I can get there.” you nudge his hand out of the way with your own. “let me do this.”

“okay,” he says. he’s breathing more heavily now, but he still — unasked — slows down a little to give you time to catch up; he likes it when you cum together. of all the guys you’ve been with, Burke has been the most committed to making sure you enjoy everything you do together.

you’re getting closer, and say so.

“fuck,” Burke says, speeding up again. it’s not the kind of fucking-like-rabbits pounding you see in porn (although you know Burke is happy to do that on request), but it’s more than enough.

“ _fuck_ ,” you echo; you’re at the edge of the cliff, that couple of seconds between not-there-yet and too-late-to-turn-back, and then Burke thrusts one more time and pushes you over the edge and you’re falling, only you’re not, because Burke, still thrusting, is there to catch you, leaning down to kiss you, hard, as he bucks into you and you spray cum all over — mostly — your chest and — a little bit, you notice afterwards — Burke’s.

breathing hard, he breaks the kiss, gives a few more short thrusts, and then pulls out to roll over and collapse onto the bed next to you.

“holy shit,” he says, turning his head to look at you; you’re aware, peripherally, of him slipping the condom off.

“yeah,” you say. it’s not an overreaction. _it’s always a good time_ — you resist, for a second, the urge to hum the old song, and then you do it anyway, because you know it’ll make Burke laugh.

it does; he kisses you, then, in a futile effort to get you to stop.

maybe, you think, not for the first time, you _are_ a little bit in love with Joseph Burke.

“another round?” he suggests, when he breaks the kiss; by way of answer, you reach over and wrap your hand around his dick. he smiles broadly and kisses you again.

two weeks later is when your drifting starts to deteriorate, though you don’t yet know why; a few months pass like that, more and more roughly. when he finally opens up to you again, in the drift, you don’t have time to think about it: you’ve got kaiju worshippers to fight. when the drift ends, though, and you disconnect from the control rig, you almost punch him, right there in your conn-pod. _how can you do this to me?_ you want to ask but don’t. and then the uncertainty that’s always haunted you: _what did I do wrong?_

the worst thing is he offers — in slightly less crude terms — to fuck you one last time. “for old times’ sake.”

“fuck off, _Ranger Burke_ ,” you say, and you leave him behind (the first and only time you’ll ever get to be the one leaving), looking after you, saying nothing. there’s nothing left to say.


End file.
